Unravelling Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Novella (A Dash of Darcy) Page 6

  Darcy stopped to greet an acquaintance and introduced Elizabeth to them as well as Bingley and Jane, who followed close behind.

  “I say, Darcy,” said Bingley before they began walking again, “it will likely be noted in the paper that you were seen in Vauxhall with a lady on your arm.”

  Darcy shrugged. “They had best describe her as beautiful,” he said with a grin.

  Bingley chortled. “I seem to have misplaced my friend whose greatest desire was to shun all of society.”

  “He is not misplaced.” Darcy raised a brow at Bingley. “He has, it seems, found his good sense in a rather forceful fashion.”

  Bingley chuckled. “Yes, I dare say your appearance will also make the society page.”

  “Have you no pity for him at all?” Elizabeth asked in feigned disbelief.

  “Not a jot,” Bingley declared.

  “Men are such strange creatures,” Elizabeth stated with a laugh.

  “It is a far better thing we do in settling our disagreements than what I have witnessed between my sisters,” Bingley defended. “There would be days of tears and tantrums, and it is a wonder the door to Caroline’s room never fell off its hinges.”

  “I agree,” said Jane. “I would rather have Lydia and Kitty hit each other and be done.”

  “Jane!” Elizabeth cried. “How violent of you! I do believe your sojourn in town has corrupted you.”

  Darcy watched in amusement as Jane’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and her lips pursed while Elizabeth’s twitched in an attempt not to smile.

  “I believe it would be far better for you to remain in the country where such savagery is little known,” Elizabeth continued.

  “Little known?” exclaimed Jane. “How many times was the surgeon called to the Lucas’s to stitch up one or the other of Charlotte’s brothers after some fight?”

  “And yet you would have him called to Longbourn to stitch up Kitty?” Elizabeth could not contain her smile any longer and let it spread across her face.

  “Kitty?” Darcy asked in surprise.

  “Oh, yes,” Jane assured him. “If Lydia and Kitty were to fight — and I assure you they have — it would not be Kitty who would be victorious. Lydia, as you may well be aware, is a very determined sort of person.”

  Darcy chuckled. “I must be honest. I never thought much about what it would be like to live among so many sisters. It is very different from what my life has been like.”

  “Two sisters is more than enough,” agreed Bingley. “I likely would not have survived if there had been more than Louisa and Caroline with whom to contend.”

  “Since your sister is much younger than you,” Jane said to Darcy, “was your childhood quiet?”

  Darcy shook his head. “At times it was, but Richard and his brother often visited and then there was Mr. Wickham.” He flinched slightly as he said the name. “He was not always bad,” he added softly. “At one time we rather enjoyed each other’s company until differences in station were not so easily ignored.”

  Jane sighed. Darcy had given Elizabeth permission to share what she knew of Wickham with her sister.

  “So you were betrayed by a friend?” Jane’s question was little more than a whisper.

  Darcy nodded. “Although it was not my first disappointment in him.”

  “You know,” said Bingley in a light tone, “when your name appears in the paper tomorrow, my sister will be unbearable.”

  Darcy gave Bingley a grateful smile for turning the conversation. He did not wish to dwell on who Wickham had been or now was. The memories were not of a pleasant variety, and tonight, was to be an enjoyable outing.

  “Might I take up a room at Darcy House?” Bingley continued.

  This drew a general laugh from the group, and each couple settled back once again into their own space on the path, close to each other and yet quite distant.

  They walked on in their private worlds of soft comments and smiles for some time and were just turning onto a path that would eventually lead them back to their supper boxes when Lord and Lady Matlock approached.

  “There you are!” Lady Matlock cried. “We were concerned you might have gotten lost on one of these paths. Not all of them are so well lit, you know.”

  Indeed, Darcy did know. In fact, he had considered taking such a path more than once. Such seclusion and shadows might have allowed him to press his suit with Elizabeth in a very pleasant fashion. However, he had no desire to have Elizabeth flee or worse be tied to him if they were discovered in some compromising position — whether real or imagined. This was not a courtship of the moment but a prelude to a lifetime, and as such, he would limit his kisses to her knuckles for now.

  “If I had not been off visiting with a dear friend, I should not have allowed you to wander away without a chaperone,” Lady Matlock continued. “One cannot be too careful with one’s reputation.”

  “Indeed,” Lord Matlock said with a smirk. “My wife knows all about dark corners, do you not, Genevieve?”

  Lady Matlock’s eyes grew wide. “I have both heard my share of stories and read about them in the paper.”

  “Yes,” Lord Matlock’s teasing smile stayed in place, “you have also been the subject of both. I do believe that is how you became my wife.”

  Lady Matlock gasped.

  Her husband patted her arm. “Not every gentleman traipses down a dark path with wicked intentions or without a desire to be ensnared.”

  Darcy knew that though his aunt and uncle often seemed to be at odds with each other, they were not — or, at least, not completely. Theirs was, for the most part, a peaceful marriage. There were no loud rows and no scandal beyond the one played out in this very garden shortly before their marriage. There was the occasional disagreement that left a strained atmosphere, but, as far as Darcy could tell from other marriages he had observed, Lord and Lady Matlock’s was among the exemplary ones.

  “But, the Misses Bennets might not know of such things,” Lady Matlock protested. “They are not of our circles. These things are very foreign to them, I would imagine.”

  “You believe compromises only occur in fine society?” Darcy could not keep the disdain from his voice. He had tolerated enough of his aunt’s small gibes over the course of the past four days.

  Georgiana had spent several afternoons with Lady Margaret, and Darcy had both seen her delivered to Matlock House and returned to Darcy House himself. Of course, he had been obliged each day to spend at least a few moments with Lady Margaret. Lady Matlock had made it a point of inquiring after that tradesman’s niece each time he was there. He had been grateful that on the one day when Lady Margaret came for tea, she had not been accompanied by her daughter-in-law.

  Lady Matlock laughed lightly. “Oh, I am certain there are many compromises that occur in the lower ranks. However, they are not as ruinous as they are in our sphere, for there are no titles or great fortunes to be squandered or tainted.” There was no missing her snub by the tone of voice and the emphasis she placed on certain words accompanied by the looks she gave Elizabeth.

  “That is not true,” Elizabeth said with a smile, though inwardly she bristled. “Why just the other day, we heard of a merchant who was being forced to accept a ne’er-do-well as a son due to a compromise, and I assure you, the father’s fortune, though not from land and merely in the form of pounds and shillings, is not insignificant. Indeed, his wealth had purchased his entrance into finer society.”

  “I do not wish to be disagreeable,” Darcy began, giving Elizabeth a wink, “but I believe that that particular compromise was the fault of one of Lady Matlock’s sphere, was it not? In fact, there might have been a lower title of some sort associated with the man.”

  Elizabeth tipped her head and for effect pretended to think for a moment. “I believe you are correct. The gentleman involved was a second son or some such thing — not directly in line to ascend, but close enough that a simple twist of fate might allow it.”

  Darcy nodded. “And n
ot of a good character.”

  Lord Matlock chuckled. “Not of good character indeed! The man is as debauched as they come. The poor young girl who wandered into our elevated circles and found herself in that quagmire!”

  Lady Matlock huffed softly.

  It was evident to Darcy that she was not pleased with the turn of the conversation. He imagined that she had meant to denigrate the Misses Bennets and Mr. Bingley, not to have her own kind maligned.

  “Is that not my point?” she asked sharply. “The girl was not prepared for our society. You cannot just wander into London from some hamlet and expect to comprehend the ways of the ton.”

  Her husband chuckled once again. “If you are attempting to say that the Misses Bennets are treading in dangerous territory, I must ask, my lady, what your opinion of our nephew is.”

  “I…that is not…” she stammered unable to form a good defense.

  “I will have you know, my dear lady,” he said, drawing her close to his side, “that our nephew and his friend are not the elements of the ton that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth need fear. Darcy and Bingley are capable of seeing that no harm befalls their ladies.”

  “But there will be talk, and Mr. Gardiner is –”

  “A fine upstanding man of good wealth and well respected,” Lord Matlock interjected.

  “But he…” she clamped her lips closed as her husband cleared his throat.

  “Mr. Gardiner is in trade, as was my father,” Bingley finished the thought that had been left hanging.

  “As was your father, Aunt,” Darcy said pointedly. “And yet, you have not only survived the worst of the ton, but you have succeeded in rising to its heights. I am certain it was not an easy thing to accomplish as many gentlemen and ladies of the ton can be vicious. Perhaps if your father had been a gentleman like Mr. Bennet, you would have found your acceptance less difficult.”

  Lord Matlock nodded. “Well said, Darcy.” He turned to his wife. “I think, in the light of your experience, you would be more gracious and welcoming. I should hate to think you had become just like those who caused you so much pain.”

  Lady Matlock sucked in a breath and lifted her chin but spoke not a word.

  “Come now, my dear. You have had your bit of fun and ruined these gentlemen’s chances of sneaking off down some dark path and finding themselves as happily married as I am.”

  Lady Matlock gasped, and Elizabeth’s cheeks grew warm.

  “Not that they would or that their ladies would allow it,” he added with a wink and a chuckle. “We should return before my mother sets off in search of me since she knows I am precisely the sort of gent to lead his lady down a shadowy path.”

  Chapter 8

  Elizabeth held her cousin Marianne Gardiner’s sampler and looked at it while tipping her head and squinting her eyes. Marianne insisted that a completed project be examined carefully before it was ever pronounced acceptable, which, due to Marianne’s attention to detail, it always was. In fact, Marianne’s efforts were often far better than acceptable. Elizabeth suspected that besides her ten-year-old cousin’s penchant for diligence, there was a small touch of genius in Marianne.

  Having put in a good show of scrutiny, Elizabeth finally lowered the piece of stitching. “It is lovely.”

  Marianne bit her lip as she took her work back from Elizabeth. “Even this last row of flowers? I could not decide if they were large enough or not.”

  “They are perfect,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “They are half the size of your letters, which allows them to be part of the background decor rather than fighting for precedence with your verse.”

  A small smile tugged at Marianne’s lips. “Do you mean it?”

  Elizabeth wanted to chuckle at how her cousin had such a difficult time ever accepting the fact that what she created was indeed good. However, Elizabeth knew that a laugh — even a small one — would not bolster the girl’s confidence. In fact, it would likely drive her to question her work further, so Elizabeth simply smiled and answered, “yes.”

  The smile on Marianne’s face grew wide. “Would you hang it in your room if it was placed in a frame?”

  “Did you make it for me?” Elizabeth asked.

  Marianne nodded. “But I am not supposed to say. It was to be a surprise.”

  “And it is. I am delighted and would love to hang it in my room. You do very good work. Far better than I could do when I was your age. In fact, I dare say your stitches are neater than mine are now!”

  Marianne ran her hand over the sampler where it lay on her lap as a light pink stain of pleasure spread across her cheeks. “I am happy you like it. I should hate very much to give you something that you only displayed because you felt it your duty.” She sighed contentedly and peeked up at Elizabeth. “Will you still hang it in your room once you live at Pemberley?”

  It was Elizabeth’s turn to wear rosy cheeks. “If I live at Pemberley, I will still proudly hang it on my wall.”

  “Oh, I know you will live there,” Marianne said with the wistful confidence that was so easily possessed by a girl of Marianne’s age and sensibilities. “Mr. Darcy has called every day that you have not seen him elsewhere.”

  “He has, but that does not mean –”

  Elizabeth was unable to finish her thought as a commotion caught both her and her cousin’s attention. Neither was left wondering about its source for any great amount of time, for within moments, the clamor had entered the sitting room. If there was one thing that was emphatically true about Elizabeth’s mother, it was that Mrs. Bennet was not the sort of lady to be ignored — ever — even when it would be most acceptable to be overlooked.

  “Mama,” cried Jane rising from where she sat near the window. “Whatever brings you to town? Is Papa with you?”

  Mrs. Bennet finished removing her hat and pelisse. “Your father insisted on seeing your uncle at his store.” She waved a hand at the maid who stood, arms laden with outerwear. “My parcel.” She turned back toward her daughters. “I found the most beautiful lace. It will be just the thing on your wedding dress, Jane.” She waved her hand again in the poor maid’s direction but this time added an impatient huff.

  “Mama,” Jane chided, “I do not have need of a wedding dress.”

  “Oh, but you will.” Mrs. Bennet was busily untying the string that held the wrapping around the package the maid had given to her before scurrying away to deposit Mrs. Bennet’s hat and coat in a room at the top of the stairs.

  “When your uncle wrote to your father that the elusive Mr. Bingley had finally called on you, I knew that you would be betrothed before you returned to Longbourn.” She proudly displayed the lace she had procured at Mr. Gardiner’s shop. “Is it not fabulous?” She draped it over her arm as she took a seat.

  “And I told your father that we must thank Mr. Darcy for helping Mr. Bingley find you. How he did not know your whereabouts is beyond me. It is not as if his sisters did not call on you here. However, it is good that Mr. Darcy knew where to find you.”

  Mrs. Gardiner took the lace from Mrs. Bennet and after an appropriate exclamation over the fineness of the piece, passed it on to Jane and rang for tea. “You will likely have your opportunity to thank Mr. Darcy soon, for he and Mr. Bingley will be arriving soon.”

  Mrs. Bennet’s eyes grew wide, and she blinked. “Does Mr. Darcy still accompany Mr. Bingley?”

  Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “No, Mr. Darcy has never accompanied Mr. Bingley, but Mr. Bingley always accompanies Mr. Darcy when he calls.”

  The room fell into silence for a time while Mrs. Bennet’s mouth hung open and her brows furrowed. Finally, she snapped her mouth shut and then, with a deep crease still between her brows, turned to Jane. “I do not understand. Are both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley calling on you? Mr. Darcy is wealthier, to be sure, but Mr. Bingley is so much more amiable. Can you not dissuade Mr. Darcy?”

  Elizabeth sighed. Sense was not something her mother possessed in large amounts. “He is calling on me, Mama,”
Elizabeth said. “Mr. Darcy is calling on me, and I have no wish to dissuade him.”

  Her mother once again gaped and blinked wide eyes. “You? Mr. Darcy, who thought you unattractive, is calling on you?” She shook her head. “No, it cannot be.”

  “I assure you it is the truth,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “And I dare say he does not find our Lizzy unattractive any longer — if he truly ever did. Did you not read the full letter my husband sent to yours?”

  Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “I did not read a word. Thomas read it to me, and it said that Mr. Bingley with his friend Mr. Darcy had called on Jane and that apparently Mr. Bingley did not know Jane was in town until his friend told him.”

  “And you did not hear the rest?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, though the whole room knew that Fanny Bennet rarely listened to a full letter if there was a fascinating bit of information that caught her attention before the complete missive could be read.

  “I do not recall anything further,” Mrs. Bennet answered. She flopped back in her chair. “My Lizzy and Mr. Darcy,” she muttered as if the idea was as odd as chickens that flew.

  Mrs. Gardiner nodded and smiled. “Yes, our Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. In fact, it is likely from my observations that Mr. Darcy might offer before Mr. Bingley does.” She sent a secret smile to Elizabeth, who had told her dearest aunt about the last evening she had spent with Mr. Darcy in Kent.

  Mrs. Bennet’s hand began to flutter in front of her face. “I might need a bit of a lie-down,” she murmured before repeating, “my Lizzy and Mr. Darcy.”

  “Are you certain you cannot endure long enough to have a cup of tea and a little conversation with your future sons?”